The door pushes open exposing a dimly lit, depressingly silent bar. Several men sit around the bar looking down at their drinks and the ashtrays in front of them as though they’re contemplating their wasted lives and how much longer they have until they’re finally put out of their misery. The bar is shaped like a horse track. The door opens and the camera focuses on big red shoes walking. The shoes pass and a figure of a man dressed in a peculiar outfit comes into view. He sits down at the bar on the opposite side of the room from the door. There is a seat between him and another man who looks at the new patron as though he were annoyed. The new patron is in a clown outfit with a little makeup still behind the ears.

MAN AT BAR

“What the fuck are you supposed to be?”

CLOWN

“A clown.”

MAN AT BAR

“Yeah you look it. You go to school for that?”

CLOWN

“I did.”

MAN AT BAR

“Your parents must be proud.”

CLOWN

“It’s been a long time.”

MAN AT BAR

“It’s been a long time since what?”

CLOWN

“It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken with them.”

MAN AT BAR

“Imagine that. So what’s it like?”

CLOWN

“So what’s what like?”

MAN AT BAR

“A grown man living as a clown.”

CLOWN

“I washed the paint off.”

MAN AT BAR

“Most of it—what about the outfit?”

CLOWN

“There’s a certain appearance required of me.”

MAN AT BAR

“So you wash the makeup off your face when you’re done with the job but you keep the clown outfit on when you walk into a bar so no one mistakes you?”

CLOWN

“Mistake me for what?”

MAN AT BAR

“You tell me.”

CLOWN

“It’s 10:30 in the morning on a Monday, you think I’m the only one in here who’s a clown?”